


A Little Selfish

by 4vrAFangirl



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Period-Typical Homophobia, Religious Guilt, S3: E3: Benediction, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 04:46:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10506567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4vrAFangirl/pseuds/4vrAFangirl
Summary: "You know I'd follow you anywhere, don't you? Straight into hell, if need be."It's only right that that's the case, Ben thinks, since that's where he's going to get the two of them sent; if they aren't already damned. They haven't done anything, but thinking of, wishing for sin is as bad as committing it, that was what they'd been taught, and whatever he might do or say to throw off everyone else from the truth, he cannot lie to himself. He's definitely entertained less than pure or holy thoughts about his childhood friend. God help him, but he doesn't know when it started, or how to stop it. He's known Caleb Brewster his whole life, and Ben is all but certain he's loved him just as long.





	

They're sitting together on Ben's cot again. Ben's just come back from debriefing Washington about his dealings with their rogue Reverend, and how it is he found himself riding into camp bloody and near death, tied to a stolen horse just to stay seated. Caleb heard the entirety of the account the Major gave his superior but insisted on accompanying him back to his tent, on hearing all the details insignificant to his report. Likely an excuse as much as anything else- his old friend has scarcely left his side since news reached the camp Major Tallmadge had returned, gravely injured- but Ben was grateful for the company. He remembers somewhere in the fever and fading strength after returning to camp, the sound of the other man's voice, shaky in a way he's rarely heard before, 'Goddamnit Benjamin, you had to go and volunteer yourself for the job didn't you. I swear if you die, I will kill that Washington for the lobsters myself,' but he has to acknowledge it's at least possible he simply dreamed it.

Caleb's throwing pebbles into the tin cup across the tent, shoulder brushing now and again against Ben's as he relates to him the whole of what he went through. Caleb lets him talk without interruption, his hit to miss ratio taking a serious dive when Ben reaches the part about doubting whether or not he might make it back to camp with his injury, before turning to face him as he finishes. Ben swallows even as he feels his throat and chest tighten under the other man's gaze because there's something so plain, so unguarded in the way Caleb is looking at him now it frightens him. Something in the way that they're both holding their breath, something changed in the air between them, something about the way neither has moved, but somehow it feels as though they're closer and the tent around them has suddenly shrunk, and Ben knows what is coming as Caleb opens his mouth to speak.

"Caleb, don't," he says, standing to put a few paces between them and pointedly turning to stare at a blank stretch of the tent canvas on the opposite wall. It's meant to be a warning, but the words come out sounding far more like a plea than anything else. Don't do this, Ben thinks desperately, because if Caleb gives voice to it… If they finally address what this thing is between them that they've been dancing around for years, he won't be able to pretend anymore, and he has to be able to, as much for Caleb's sake as his own, their very lives depend on it. Caleb is having none of it, standing up, kicking his tin cup over as he moves to stand in front of him once more. He's short enough of course that Ben could continue to stare right over his head, but much as he dreads meeting his eyes, he's never been good at ignoring Caleb, and Caleb is stubborn enough to persist on those rare occasions that he tries to do so until the older man gets his way. Besides Ben doesn't actually want to look away. Not now. Not ever. He doesn't really want to leave Caleb's side any more than it seems Caleb has his since he's returned. Seeing Caleb alive and well is as much as a balm for him, as the opposite seems to be true for Caleb, though that seems all the more compelling a reason Ben should be avoiding him and all of this.

"Ain't you ever tired Benny," Caleb asks, dark penetrative gaze fixed on his, sizing him up with a small frown. All the time, Ben thinks, but fortunately, he manages to bite his tongue before the words can slip out. "All that lyin'-"

"It's part of the job," Ben replies, almost automatically, not entirely sure of who he is trying to convince anymore, himself or Caleb.

"Yeah, I know we're spies, but this is different. This is us," Caleb continues, and now Ben thinks it might be Caleb of the two of them that sounds like he may be pleading, perhaps a little desperate to impress upon him his point. "We lie to everybody else for the cause, yeah, and we lie for each other, but we've never lied to each other. Maybe we ain't never said anything about it before, but you're the sharpest guy I know, so don't try to tell me you missed it."

He had actually. Well, perhaps not missed it, but certainly written it off. Caleb will, and generally does flirt with just about anyone, it's just his playful, albeit a bit immature, sort of way. Ben has never felt safe in assuming that somehow he was somehow a special case. Just because he was foolish enough to fall for his older brother's friend hardly meant those feelings were reciprocated, particularly forbidden as they were; not of course that Caleb had ever put very much stock in following the rules. Caleb spending time with him, playing with him, teaching him how to fish, chasing him through his uncle's orchards, and generally looking out for him when he was younger, that was simply being kind to his friend’s brother. Sure they became a lot closer as Ben grew a bit older, maybe even closer than Caleb and Samuel, but it didn't necessarily follow that Caleb felt or was interested in something more than their friendship the way that Ben was.

It hardly matters now, he reminds himself. They aren't just two boys from the sleepy little inlet of Setauket anymore, can't afford to do anything about whatever this is between them under the noses of so many eyes, Washington himself among them. So he can't- he can't let Caleb say anything, can't let him shatter his denial.

He manages to fight off a flinch as the shorter man reaches up and cups his cheek in the palm of his hand, but only just. It's not as if the gesture is a particularly foreign one, but it's usually fleeting, tacked on to one of their greetings or parting hugs. Caleb doesn't seem in any rush to pull away this time, though. The canvas of his tent is hardly any kind of respectable or formidable barricade from the camp and the rest of the world. Any sense of security or privacy that it gives them can only be an exaggerated one, but Caleb doesn't seem bothered, or the least bit concerned that someone could walk in at a moment's notice and find them here like this: a little too close, holding each other's gaze a little too long... For all that he is the elder of the two of them, Caleb's always been the more rash, prone to thinking and acting with his heart more than his head. Ben admires it nearly as much as he fears it. He wants to give in, to dive head first into whatever it is that Caleb is offering, but he can't turn his brain off, can't stop thinking.

They could be hanged. Even after everything they have done, all they have sacrificed for their country and the cause. They would be stripped of any and all their titles, of any uniform, and hanged the same as a common criminal. Worse than. While their fellow onlookers, men they knew and fought alongside, cast dispersions about their character and the fate of their souls. True, their names were never exactly going to be remembered before, nothing like Washington's anyway. The very nature of the sort of work they do necessitates a certain level of anonymity. Their greatest accomplishments and sacrifices will be marked by no one but among their own and lost to future generations. But this... If they were to be caught would nullify any and all of their good deeds and works. It is a childish thought, but Ben cannot help but feel bitter, angry, at how grossly unfair it all is. Men, boys really, are out there giving their lives, dying for freedom, their country, their families- for love. But somehow this love is different, this love is a sin, an abomination, unforgivable. His father's sermons and all his bible studies echo in his ears, but Ben can't see it; doesn't truly understand it.

"Ben," Caleb whispers softly, his voice a siren's call-coaxing him back to him, back into his body and into the warmth of Caleb's calloused hand against his skin. "Please. There've been so many close calls. Too many," he continues frowning still more from behind his beard that's nearly back to what it used to be before he shaved it off just so Abe could turn down his attempt to spirit him away from prison. "I ain't nobody special to you; not so far as anyone else here is concerned. Just an old friend. I ain't properly kin; nobody would have to tell me anything if the worst happened, and that's if anybody was ever able to find out what happened to you," Caleb's other hand snatches his where it's slack at his side, clasping it almost too tightly in his own, like he's afraid of what might happen if he lets him go, and maybe he is. "I hate the bloody-coats as much as the next man in this camp, but you and I both know that ain't why I'm here."

Ben's heart clenches, yes, he does know that. Caleb is here because he'd followed him and Sam. If anything happens to him, it's their fault. His fault, now that Samuel is gone. And Caleb has never said as much, puts the blame on his own shoulders, but his uncle's death is on Ben's hands too. Maybe Caleb had gone along with it, hadn't fought him on it, but it was Ben's decision to keep Simcoe alive to try and weed more information out of him. Ben who gave that monster the opportunity to live long enough to take the last of Caleb's family from him right before his eyes. Ben hadn't been sure he'd even be able to kill a man when he first signed up in Connecticut. Had only wanted to protect the people he loved and cared about, and do right by his country. Instead, he made his father and friends a target and dragged the one person he most cared for right into the enemy's crosshairs. He has so much blood on his hands now, Ben can't be sure he'll ever be able to wash them clean.

"I'm not a boy anymore, Caleb. I don't need you to look after and protect me," Ben protests softly, maybe a bit defensively, trying valiantly to swallow where it feels as though his heart has leaped up into his throat. Caleb raises what he's long since learned to recognize as a skeptical eyebrow at him, silently challenging this assertion, but doesn't allow himself to be distracted and rise to the other man's bait.

"Aye, maybe, but I've been doing it so long, I'm not sure I'd know how to go about quitting now," Caleb replies with something of a rueful smile and a hint of the twinkle that lights up his eyes whenever he's amused by something. "I don't want to," the older man adds before Ben can find his tongue and words to speak again. "You know I'd follow you anywhere don't you? Straight into hell, if need be." It's only right that that's the case, Ben thinks, since that's where he's going to get the two of them sent; if they aren't already damned. They haven't done anything, but thinking of, wishing for sin is as bad as committing it, that was what they'd been taught, and whatever he might do or say to throw off everyone else from the truth, he cannot lie to himself. He's definitely entertained less than pure or holy thoughts about his childhood friend. God help him, but he doesn't know when it started, or how to stop it. He's known Caleb Brewster his whole life, and Ben is all but certain he's loved him just as long.

"Benny, please," Caleb says again softly, too emotional by half now to dismiss or mistake it for anything other than a heartfelt plea. "We thought we might have lost you. Hell, we very nearly did," the shorter man adds with a pointed glance at the taller man where he's earned himself a brand new scar. "And all I could think about was that I never said the damned words- not a once- and I didn't have any good excuses, no reason to forgive myself for it. It ain't like I ain't sure. I've never been surer of anything before. An' the words are right there, on the tip of my tongue, at the front of my mind, every time I look at you, every time I think about you. I put half an ocean and a good couple years between us trying to fight it; because you were Sammy's lil' brother, a preacher's son, because I couldn't stand the idea of ruining- or holding you back. But it didn't take," he continues shaking his head. "Truth is, Tall-boy, I don't want to forget or get over it. I know we can't advertise it, but I don't want to waste any of the time we might have left between us pretending anymore, not with you. I know it ain't what your father's God and his book might have to say about it, but I've never felt happy or whole with anyone the way I do with you, an' I like to think maybe I do that for you too," he admits with a small smile, and Benjamin's heart is pounding in his chest now, demanding a response his heavy tongue can't seem to make.

Yes, Ben thinks, the thought almost a shout, burning within him, a thousand times yes. Of course, you do. Only you. Ben swallows hard, Adam's apple bobbing with the effort, and manages a slow, but an unmistakable nod that makes the shorter man smile a little wider, the happy lines around his eyes of so many laughs, smiles and precious memories becoming more prominent. "I can't believe that's wrong," Caleb concludes softly, shaking his head, thumb from the hand Ben had nearly forgotten cupped his face that had begun to feel less as if it belonged there, and more like it was simply another part of him, slowly stroking his cheek. "That the same one that made and loves all of us wouldn't want us to be happy." He shouldn't, he thinks, but doesn't know how to help it, doesn't want to fight it anymore, Ben melts into the touch pressing back against the warmth and affection being offered.

"I love you," Ben whispers softly before he can think better of it, before he can stop the words from coming, bowing his head to allow his forehead to press gently against Caleb's as he lets the hand that holds his own squeeze his companion's. Caleb is right, neither of them has any guarantees, any way to know which fight or which bullet might be the one that takes them. And if this is the only chance he gets to say it... Caleb lets out a short laugh, pulling back a little to shake his head and scowl at him, though it's clearly more for theatricality than genuine anger of any sort.

"All that, just for you to steal my bloody line. You're a right bastard, you are," Caleb scolds, but then he's smiling again and the way he's looking at him is nothing but fond. Ben is once again struck by the way even when they haven't hidden away from prying eyes as they are now, Caleb can make him feel as though he's the only other person in the world, the only one that matters with a look and without a single word. "I love you too, Benjamin Tallmadge." The words are uncharacteristically quiet from a man who is normally hard pressed to shut up, but not the least bit uncertain, and Caleb is right, he'd known it well before now, hadn't really needed to hear the words aloud to clarify this thing between them, but his heart stutters for a moment at them anyway, replaying it over and over in his mind.

Kiss me. Ben can't be sure whether he actually voiced, or merely thought the request, but it doesn't seem to matter, because a moment later Caleb is closing what little gap was left between them, his hand releasing Ben's own only to come to rest on his hip instead, to pull and hold his body still closer to his own, the hand on his cheek, sliding back behind his head, fingers combing softly in the short hairs at his neck that have fallen out of his braid, as he pressed his lips to his, the whiskers of his beard tickling Ben's face. His lips are dry, still a little chapped, his tongue darting out between breaths to wet them, before Caleb is pressing back in once more, chasing it, dueling Ben's tongue with his own, teeth nipping, tugging ever so slightly at his bottom lip, before a soft moan in the back of Ben's throat he cannot entirely suppress has him opening his mouth up to him. Ben doesn't quite know what to do with his own hands, they slide over Caleb, grasping for purchase just about anywhere and everywhere he can reach, before one tangles in the small ponytail of hair at the back of his neck, tugging a little in a way that Caleb must like, because it has the other man kissing him still harder and more passionately than before. His other hand lands a bit uncertainly on his lower back, and Caleb laughs softly against his mouth before one hand is shoving Ben's down to his ass, and encouraging him to grope him.

The shorter man takes hold of his cravat and tugs pulling Ben down enough so that his lips and warm breath caress his ear as he whispers words of reassurance. "You don't have to be shy or nervous, not with me. You can touch me wherever and however you like, Benny-boy. I'm all yours," Caleb promises, drawing a shiver out of him at his words and nipping at his earlobe before pulling back to plunder his lips once more. Bolstered by his words, or perhaps simply passed the point of caring any longer, Ben takes a handful of Caleb's ass and squeezes, pulling his hips flush against his own and letting evidence of his arousal where his britches are quickly becoming tighter brush against him. It's almost too good, and Ben feels for a moment as though he may just float away as Caleb lets out a low moan, his own growing erection brushing back against his, and Ben realizes he's taking Caleb apart as much as he is him.

"Fuck," he gasps breathlessly as Caleb sets to work kissing and worrying a spot about his collarbone that is sure to leave a bruise just out of sight from prying eyes, while nimble fingers fly up to the buttons of his jacket.

"Oh no Darlin'," Caleb purrs huskily against his throat, forcing Ben to bite the inside of his cheek in order to stop himself from letting out positively indecent mewl for him. "If we get to that point it won't be anything like fucking," he grins. "I'm going to worship every last inch of you," Caleb promises, pupils blown wide with lust and hungry eyes sweeping over him in a way that steals his breath away, and causes him to shiver slightly.

They're both aware Ben is too inexperienced to make any real distinction between fucking and the kind of love-making that Caleb is suggesting. For a moment, Ben thinks about asking how exactly it is that Caleb knows the difference before he decides he doesn't want to hear any more about Caleb's previous conquests. "That's blasphemous," Ben manages to eke out instead.

"Well then, God shouldn't have been such an overachiever and made you so damn beautiful." Ben can feel his neck and cheeks flush at the compliment, even as it only makes Caleb smile still wider. Cocky arse. The sudden noise of a group of men passing by some feet away outside the tent makes Ben jump, stiffening up.

"Caleb," Ben whines, forcing himself to pull back when every fiber of his body seems to be demanding he does everything but. "Caleb," he scolds when the other man ignores him, continuing with his kisses and caresses. "It's mid- afternoon. We're in the middle of camp. Anyone could walk in here, and-" The shorter man makes an indignant grunt of protest, before nodding, slowly pulling away to a more respectable distance, well... more like a more friendly space, gently reaching up and fixing Benjamin's cravat.

"Sit, I made a mess of your braid, I'll fix it," he instructs pointing over to the desk and chair beside the major's cot. "See now," Caleb teases as he gently gathers and separates his hair to rebraid it again as he’s done for him a hundred times before, blunt fingernails fleetingly brushing against Ben's scalp in a way that seems to burn with heat after their confession and passionate embrace and kisses only moments ago. "If you kept your hair a little more devil-may-care like mine, you wouldn't have to worry your pretty little head about looking debauched like this so easily."

"I could cut it short. Wear a wig like Washington," Ben suggests absently.

"Don't you dare," Caleb growls, momentarily tightening his grip on his sandy brown locks.

"How do you think I felt when you came back to camp clean-shaven," Ben returns with a small smile.

"Mmm, like me with whiskers do you," Caleb smirks nodding, ducking down to tickle the back of Ben’s neck with it for the briefest instant, relishing the way his body is so responsive to even a teasing touch such as this one. "Well, you can thank Abe for having to suffer my baby-face, ungrateful shite. Not to worry Benny, I'm keeping it this time," he assures him. "There," he says finishing off his handiwork with a clean tight knot of ribbon. "You look like a respectable officer again," he teases, smacking him playfully on the arse when Ben stands up from his seat.

"Caleb," Ben hisses warningly, causing the other to throw up his hands in mock innocence and surrender.

"Relax Tall-boy, I can keep my hands to myself and my big mouth shut when it counts," Caleb assures him with a wink, before ducking out of the tent.

Ben busies himself with various errands for Washington and the rest of the Intelligence branch for the rest of the afternoon without incident. The mark Caleb left just below his collarbone feels like a brand seared against his skin, somehow still hot hours later, and he marvels that no one suspects or is any the wiser to its presence. Caleb does- well, whatever it is he does when he's not immediately needed by Ben or Washington on a task for the Ring. He misses him, his stupid comments, his smile, and laughter, the playful shove or smacks on his shoulder, but Ben is smart enough to recognize that right now he wouldn't be able to focus on any of his tasks if Caleb were around after what happened in his tent. Will he ever? He needs to get a hold of himself, take back control over his thoughts; great things are expected of him and none of the men that he works alongside are stupid. His greatest fear of something happening to Caleb will be a self-fulfilled prophecy if he doesn't manage to reign himself in before he gives them away.

Caleb will no doubt be expecting to resume what they had started when they're next afforded an opportunity, and Ben can already feel his hands on him again, can just imagine his callouses brushing over bare skin, kissing him, working each other out of their britches... but another part of him, an infuriatingly logical part of him is urging caution. There won't be any turning back after this, not for him. It may well be the hardest thing he will ever do, but he could stop now. Put an end to it, they could try to go back to being the same as before, he could try to forget what kissing and touching Caleb felt like. Ben may be inexperienced, but he knows himself well enough to know lying with Caleb once will never be enough. They will always have to be careful, looking over their shoulders, watching their words, their glances, their touches around others. They'll have to lie every day, to everyone in order to keep themselves, each other, and the bond between them secret and safe. There won't be any rest, any peace. And if anything were ever to happen to Caleb because of him, Ben knows all too well he could never forgive himself for it. He wants this. More than he has ever wanted anything in his life, but that doesn't mean that he deserves it, or that Caleb deserves all the work and grief that would come with being with him.

"You're thinking too hard, Tall-boy," Caleb's voice interrupts that evening while Ben is back in his tent, trying to read over the latest scouting reports. He's pretty sure he's been rereading the same few sentences for at least the last five minutes, though, and his plate has begun to grow cold, but his stomach is too tied up in knots to think about eating.

"You always say that," Ben sighs, folding up and tucking the papers away in the desk drawer.

"And it's usually true," Caleb nods. "Need to learn how to relax once in awhile," the other man says with a small, entirely fond smile, hands coming to rest on his shoulders and massaging some of the tension out of them. Ben does his best to relax into the touch, to allow the other man to work his magic, but finds he just can't bring himself to; guilt tearing him up. "Now if I know you, you've had all day to brew up some second thoughts, and now you're trying to find some way of letting me down easy." Ben blushes a little but doesn't bother trying to deny it, dropping his head when Caleb's hands move to work on his neck, and staring unseeingly at the wood of the desk in front of him; not sure whether to hate himself or Caleb for knowing him so well as he does.

"I ain't here to pressure you, Benny," Caleb finally says softly, a gentle squeeze of the other man's shoulders before letting go and taking a seat on the cot to put a little more space between them. "If you're scared or you don't want to, then we won't. Nothing has to change if you don't want it to." Ben sighs again, fighting to tear his gaze away from the desk and his lap to look Caleb in the eyes, he deserves that at least, even if it only stands to make this conversation more difficult for Ben.

"It's just-" Ben struggles, searching for a way to articulate everything he's been struggling with since the two of them parted earlier that afternoon. "Caleb, even if we survive all of this-" and Ben knows from the look on his face that Caleb wants to interrupt, wants to say that of course they are both going to make it out of this, but the other man bites his tongue. 

They've both been reminded all too recently that it's entirely possible, probable even that they won't, at the very least not without some scars to show for it. So Caleb simply nods, waiting for him to continue, for which he's grateful. Ben isn't sure he could pick back up again if he did. "What happens when it's all over?"

"You buy a good house with your pension, somewhere nice and peaceful-like, settle down with a little woman and have a couple of kids, maybe move your father in with you," Caleb shrugs. Ben wants to say it isn't true, that he would never, because where does Caleb fit into that, but he can't quite bring himself to. The picture Caleb paints is nothing less than what is expected of him. It's what Benjamin has always planned for, even as he grew older, as he and Caleb grew closer, and he started to have uncertainties about whether or not that was the sort of life he really wanted. Because if he's honest with himself, the life he wants, a life with Caleb, isn't a realistic option, certainly not one they can flaunt or that anyone else will accept or embrace.

"And you," he asks instead, swallowing the lump in his throat, ignoring the twinge of the bruise where Caleb's kissed and worried skin beneath his cravat.

"You know me," Caleb shrugs again, doing his best to give an air of nonchalance about it all. "I'll go back to the sea, make my fortune, have a pretty girl in every port, hell maybe I'll turn pirate," he jokes with a chuckle.

"Put an ocean between us again," Ben asks, echoing the other man's earlier words. Caleb nods, frowning a little now.

"If I have'ta," he confirms, and Ben's head drops, unable to meet Caleb's eyes anymore. It hurts too much. Do you have to, Ben wonders selfishly, chest aching.

"And that... that would be enough? You'd be happy like that?"

"I don't know what you want me to tell you, Ben," Caleb admits softly, looking lost.

"Tell me the truth. You said it yourself, we never lie to each other, no reason to start now."

"You already know the truth, and it hasn't done you a lick of good. It's not going to make whatever you decide any easier."

"Tell me anyway," Ben insists, bracing himself.

"I love you Tall-boy," Caleb exhales with a sigh and a shake of his head. "That ain't gonna change if I put the whole world between us, but I don't know that I could bear seeing you married, making a family and a happy life with someone else. I'm a lot of things, but I ain't that much of a masochist."

"Why do you have to be the one to leave?"

"C'mon Ben, what do I have for me here? I don't belong here. Maybe I never really did. This lot haven't kept me around for my charm and good looks. They've put up with me because you told 'em they had to; you made it clear we were a package deal. Maybe once there was a time when you needed me, but you certainly don't now. I'm holding you back."

"I'll always need you," Ben replies before he can stop himself.

"Well, what you need right now is some time," Caleb smiles ruefully, shaking his head. "I can give you that. You think and sleep on it, and when you figure out whatever argument you’re having with yourself, you know where to find me.”

“Caleb,” Ben starts, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“It’s alrigh’,” Caleb soothes cutting him off with a shake of his head.

“I do love you,” Ben offers because somehow it feels like he has to say that much at least. He’s a little less sure when there’s a fleeting, but a definite flash of pain crossing the other man’s face, but then he’s smiling again, and nods.

“Ben I’ve loved you since we were little more than kids. Nothing you can say or do is going to change that. Whatever you decide I’ll stand by it. And if this afternoon is the most that ever comes of us, well then I’ve got a hell of a kiss to remember it by,” he promises softly with a small hint of a smirk that draws a short laugh from the other, before he’s taking his leave and making his way back to his own tent.

There’s too much on his mind to heed all of Caleb’s instructions and get any sleep on the matter, but he can at least be sure he’s giving it plenty of thought. Caleb doesn’t bring the matter up again, he’s no more distant than before their kiss and conversation than he ever was before, but all of it is friendly, brotherly, none of it lingering, nothing that might be construed as an attempt to influence his decision. If anything it only serves to reassure him the older man was completely in earnest that nothing has to change between them both unless Benjamin decides he wants it to. The fact that he wanted to follow after Caleb that night the moment he left his tent seems reason enough to avoid making any kind of hasty decisions about the future of their relationship with one another, but busy as camp and Washington are keeping him, the kiss and the promise of what could be are never very far from the forefront of his mind, each day it seems a little harder to deny that he wants this more than he fears any consequences- or at least any consequences that would befall him. He’ll die to protect Caleb if necessary. In the end, it’s sending Anna into New York that finally tips the scales.

“She loves him,” Ben blurts out the moment he’s found Caleb, fishing down at a nearby stream, though he doesn’t appear to be having much in the way of luck. Probably still too cold yet. “She loves him, even though he’s an officer of the King, and I’m forcing her to manipulate and abuse his affection.”

“No you’re not,” Caleb replies, pulling in his line, setting his pole aside and patting the stump beside him for Ben to sit down. He does. “The war is, you’re just the messenger. Besides Annie is a big girl. She could have had me drop her in any old port, but she had me bring her here when she left Setauket. I ain’t sayin’ you have to like it, but it ain’t all on your shoulders either, Tall-boy. Annie is not without her say in it. She could tell both you and Washington to go to hell.” Ben snorts but recognizes there’s a bit of truth to what the other is saying. Anna is certainly headstrong enough to buck and order or tell Washington himself to go to hell if she felt so inclined. She had protested. Had made it clear she didn’t approve of what was being asked of her, what she would be made to do taking advantage of the British Major who’d fallen for her.

“But she did it,” Ben says softly more to the air than his companion in particular. “She wrote to him and got her pass.”

“Yeah, she made her choice,” Caleb nods.

“He might have made her happy.”

“Or he might have made her miserable in the end. We won’t ever really know,” Caleb shrugs.

“How can I ask her to sacrifice so much? Someone she cares about? The possibility of a future happiness- How is that fair?”

“Nothing about it’s fair. But like I told you, it’s not really you asking. What’s really eating at you, Benny boy?”

“Anna scarcely mentions Abe anymore. You said yourself when you were in Oyster Bay over Thanksgiving they weren’t much more than civil.”

“That’s because Abe was being a selfish bastard. He didn’t care about the cause. Anna had a way to keep him from killing anyone and to protect a good man she came to care about, maybe even a way out of it all, a chance for her to be happy, and Abe couldn’t stand the idea that it was with somebody else. You aren’t Abe, Anna’s a smart one, she might be hurting now, but she knows that.”

“But is it selfish,” Ben mumbles softly to himself, shaking his head, bright blue eyes finally looking up from his hands where his fingers have been nervously twisting to examine the man beside him.

“I can’t recall you ever being selfish, Ben,” Caleb replies honestly meeting his gaze. “You give so much, it’s a wonder there’s anything left of you. You could probably afford to be a little selfish.”

“You don’t even know what I’m talking about,” Ben scoffs quietly.

“You’ll get around to telling me eventually. You Yale types like to use all of them fancy words you learned,” he teases, coaxing the first genuine laugh he’s allowed himself in far too many days.

“We make sacrifices for the cause, for this war so that others won’t have to. That’s what I told her when I asked her to get a pass into New York.”

“True enough,” Caleb nods, looking out over the brook to the sun just beginning to kiss the tops of the trees as it sets.

“I don’t want us to be one of them,” Ben admits, untangling his hand and gently taking Caleb’s right where it rests on the log between them into his own, causing the other to draw in a sharp and shallow breath.

“If you mean for someone to talk you out of this, you picked the wrong man to talk to,” the whaler admits with a rueful sort of smile poking out from behind his beard.

“Do you think she’ll ever forgive us,” Ben presses, searching the brown eyes that stare back at him.

“Annie,” Caleb manages after a moment of confusion. “You plannin’ on telling her?”

“You really think we could keep it from her,” Ben challenges, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, okay, you may have a point there. But Ben, you know she loves you. Not like me, of course,” Caleb adds with a smirk, elbowing him playfully. “But Annie won’t resent you for being happy. Not forever.”

“God help me, I love her too, but I don’t think it would stop me if she did,” Ben confesses softly. If the threat to his own salvation is insufficient motivation to keep the other at arm's length, he can't imagine anything else that could dissuade him. “I don’t need any more time to know how I feel about you. There’s never been anyone else for me, and there never will be.”

“Benny-“

“You said you weren’t the one to talk me out of this,” Ben reminds him. “So don’t. We don’t know if either of us has a future waiting for us after this, but I know I don’t want one without you in it.” Caleb still looks a little wary of the hand that’s holding his as if he’s just waiting for it to disappear, and it’s clear now, however generous he may have been in giving Ben time and space to decide what he wants, it hasn’t been an easy task. “I’m not going to change my mind,” he adds firmly, offering Caleb’s hand a gentle squeeze.

“You’d probably kill me if you did,” Caleb mumbles with a laugh that doesn’t quite ring with the same humor he usually sports. Ben lets his thumb sweep over the back of his companion’s hand in a quiet show of reassurance. “And if we do make it out of this,” Caleb hates asking, giving voice to his doubts.

“Then we take our pensions and buy a really nice boat, and privateer, or go pirate,” Ben shrugs with a small smile, trying to coax another genuine one from Caleb, who still looks a bit worried. “We put the oceans between us and the rest of the world, instead of each other,” Ben adds, just in case that wasn’t obvious enough, and Caleb can’t hold back the brilliant happy smile been he’s afraid of and fighting since Benjamin first suggested that he’d set his mind on this.

“And what on God’s green Earth are you going to do if it turns out you get seasick,” Caleb asks, though it’s clear from his tone, he’s merely poking fun at him now.

“I’m sure we’ll think of something,” Ben answers easily.

“Yeah,” Caleb nods allowing himself to tip over and rest his head on Ben’s shoulder. “I’m sure we will.”


End file.
